


let's talk in baseball metaphors (what are they again?)

by hariboo



Category: New Girl
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the evolution of jess and nick's hook ups via alcohol and some soberness, but not enough of the latter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's talk in baseball metaphors (what are they again?)

 

 

Schmidt drags them to a night club opening that's supposed to be in his words _dope_.

 

 

(Like this is how Carrie met Big on Sex and the City. A club, a night, a look. All the sexy love stories start like that. But she's a Charlotte with Carrie sensibilities, though really she's not even in the show. )

 

 

It isn't.

 

 

(Anyway isn't a sexy love story because um, wow, just no.)

 

 

The alcohol is however very cheap and Jess's still mastering dancing in heels for long periods of time so between those two things she ends up half the night propped up on a stool at the bar where the bartender is a guy Nick knows from some place they worked together -- there's a moment of man hugs and she gets a fist bumps, complete with an eye roll from Winston, which hurt her knuckles because the guy is wearing a thick ring Schmidt says is _dope_ ; he's trying to bring back the word, he told her earlier -- and the bartender tells Nick that he'll make their drinks half off. Which rules since the guy makes an awesome margarita, like the _perfect_ margarita The other half of her night is spent trying to dance even though the dance floor is crowded and sweaty and sticky and after her feet are telling her she just _can't_ dance with Schmidtty-Schmidt-Schmidt anymore. Ever. Winston is too busy with his own dance battle so thankfully she's safe there. And Nick just "doesn't dance" unless they count the chicken dance at the wedding and he doesn't.

So. The rest of her night that she isn't on a bar stool or dancing with Schmidt or Winston she spends most of the night with Nick, leaning over his shoulder because they're nice and wide and help stay up straight when she starts to teeter after the fourth marg. It's her new nickname for margaritas. When she tells Winston he laughs, telling her she is _drunk_ , which is totally true, and then he does something he's never done and pats her arm. Like supportively!

 

 

(Anywhere else it'd be different. One girl, three guys, just friends. Somewhere it would be drama or a sitcom.

Here it's just life. Stupid messy life.)

 

 

She beams at Winston and pokes him in the belly. He frowns muttering _way too drunk_ and spins her into Nick. His arms are good and there and wrap around her waist because she's teetering again.

"Watch this one," Winston says. "She's got more game than she thinks."

 

 

(Correction: drunk messy life.)

 

 

She laughs, "Kidder!", her fingers curving over Nick's shoulder. Balance is important.

Nick doesn't laugh though. His lips pull down and she remembers that Schmidt told her Nick's a serious drunk, when he's not being a sad one. Jess has only seen the Sad Drunk Nick. This new one is new but kinda familiar too.

Because Jess actually thinks Nick's a serious everything kinda guy. Except sometimes he sings to her and wears her hats and does a slow jam chicken dance. He does that kinda stuff a lot more than she thinks he thinks he lets himself.

So really Jess thinks Nick is kinda super great.

Winston leaves them and goes to "run his game" on the "honeys," which makes her frowns. She wonders if the guys know how stupid they sound.

She turns to Nick. "Do you guys know how ridiculous that sounds?"

He's walking them back towards the bar and she's thinking that maybe a new marg might be a bad idea when her feet wobble on the tiny steps separating the dance floor from where the bar is. Bodies push her more fully against Nick. Nick, by the way, for those interest, is super solid. Not steady, dependable solid, though Jess thinks he is that, but like the he's solidly _built_ like there's muscles under her hands. This is kinda news to her.

By kinda she means that she had suspicions at the wedding but like she's so much more aware right now. Funny how tequila and fruit juice does that.

"What?" he asks over the music, his mouth by her ear.

Jess wants water.

"You guys sound ridica-ri-dick--stupid when you say things like run game on the honeys!" She yells and it's almost a record-scratch moment because she feels everything around her go strangely silent as Nick meets her gaze.

 

 

(The record doesn't scratch but something somewhere skips a beat.

It'd be a love song moment anywhere else.)

 

 

He blinks and laughs and it's like sound starts back up again even if it never really left. Thank pie she didn't say the thing about the muscles. He keeps on laughing and she's gives him one awkward chuckle before pressing her lips together.

Jess' lips twist around. "What? It's true!"

Nick's eyes are dark and at the same time too bright for the club and he stumbles forward a little as someone behind him moves past them. His arm tightens around her and the hand on his shoulder digs in.

His laughs trails away and his other hand cups her elbow.

She's not surprised when his lips close over hers. She wants to laugh but no that's not it. This isn't funny. But it's something.

 

 

(If they were other people they would know. In a story they would understand right there and then.

Here it's just too much Friday margs. Remember that's her nickname for margaritas.)

 

 

Her mouth opens a little under his lips and her tongue peeks out. He tastes like beer--Guinness, it's what he drinks when they go out to the bar--and warm. He tastes very warm and she didn't know that was a flavour, but that's what she tastes as his tongue licks the roof of her mouth. He sucks at her lip a little too hard and she gets jostled from the side.

She wants to moan.

 

 

(It should feel like a movie or a tv show when the guy and the girl get together and it's all slow motion and slow songs and declarations of feelings.

It's too hot and too loud and then Nick steps on her toes.)

 

 

Jess yelps and that's what brings them apart. Her toes are throbbing in her shoes and she starts hopping one leg trying to take the stupid shoe off and free her toes. She can tell that Nick is trying to yell at the guy that shoved him — _into her, into her toes, while they kissed,_ is what Jess tries to forget — over the music of the club while she's clinging to his arm, still hopping.

When he finally turns to her and she doesn't hear non-apology form the guy that bumped into them, he's back to being serious Nick. A drunk Nick who she really loves in a totally platonic way. Maybe she shouldn't think about the word love right now.

 

 

(There's that moment where it can all shift and the movie can keep going but...)

 

 

"Fudgiciles, my foot!"

"Fudgiciles?" his lips quirk.

"Yes, fudgiciles! I'm a teacher I can't curse!"

"Of course you can't, come on." He pulls her to him and helps her half hobble to the bar where she plops down on the first free stool she can find and crosses her legs. Whipping off her heel she sets it on the bar and starts rubbing at her toes. Her little toe is literally throbbing and crying all the way home for realsies.

Nick calls his friend for drinks and shoves near her, taking her foot in hard, shaking his head. He starts to message at them.

He might mutter _i can't believe i'm doing this_ but his friend sets down a nice pink drink in front of her and she doesn't care anymore. The drink even has straw. Straws are super great especially when they're the one in funny shapes. This is a normal tiny straw but it's red. It's cute. She grabs at it and sips daintily.

Her eyes might roll back a little in her head when his thumb presses over her instep but it's all good in the hood. Her drink stays in her hands.

 

 

(First kisses in dark clubs aren't how these stories are supposed to start.

It's not how this one starts either.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's the birthday of someone the guys know. The guys are her dates to the party at the bar, which is mostly done there so Nick can get sneak them free drinks the drunker he gets because he's pulling double duty as guest and bartender for most of the night. Winston ends up being her main man of the night because Schmidt is trying to get with some redhead and Nick spends most of the night talking to his friends and serving drinks.

The thing about Winston is that he's not a lightweight like she is and like Nick can be. So doing shots with him turns into a bad idea the fourth shot in and she's seeing two of him. But he takes care of her and gets her water and laughs at her jokes.

When Nick comes up to them, she pats the vinyls of the booth and grins.

"Nicholas! How have you been tonight?"

His smile is drunk and happy, he says, sliding in next to her, "Clearly not as good as you."

"Nope! Winston, my main man, has been an excellent date man." She agrees and leans her head on his shoulder. "I want ice cream and sleep."

Nick gives her this look that makes her feel all cozy, runs his fingers through her hair once, and she sighs. "Sounds good. Come on, let's go home."

 

 

(This is where the two guys would share a look about how they've both kinda fallen for this odd girl. What happens is one shrugs, the other shrugs and that's it.

Here's where in some other story they would understand that the one that takes her home is the one that _really_ cares. That's how it happens on tv.

What happens is the one that takes her home hates being at parties too long and wants to watch ESPN Classic.)

 

 

Jess is leaning on the wall as he pats down his pant's pocket. "Forgot your keys?" She giggles.

Nick frowns at her. "Where are yours?"

Jess shrugs. She doesn't know. Though she's pretty sure she remembers being told by one of the guys she was taking too long and might have not picked them up from her dresser. It's one of the two.

"Excellent," he says all surly like and sighs. "I'll call one of the guys."

She grins. "Coolios."

"Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"It's not the nineties." He smirks, but it's kinda a soft one which means he's a little amused.

For some reason that makes her laugh and say _da bomb!_ and then that makes him laugh and she still laughing too. Her hand reaches out and touches his chest. Their laughter peters out. His fingers touch the bones of her wrist and drift down her arm. She follows how his fingers settle on around her elbow. His presses against the inner curve.

Nick's warm, she notes. Nick's always warm. And when she looks up at him she smiles.

"You're always warm, you know."

His throat works and she wants to bite it. The thought gives her pause which is why she doesn't it out loud.

What she says is, "Come here." Her fingers curl in his flannel shirt.

He bends towards her.

 

 

(That's a movie move anywhere else.

But he stumbles a little and his nose bumps against her glasses and their teeth clink too loud.

This is not a movie move.)

 

 

She laughs as he kisses her and there's nothing funny about the kiss except she said _coolios_ and _da bomb_ and _come here_ and it's _Nick_.

Jess still wants to bite his throat though and her mouth has a mind of its own tonight. Her lips move from his and brush along his stubble until she reaches his jaw. There, she bites--only a little. Only because her mouth tells her brain too and he taste like sweat and the stale flavour of his cologne. Totally borrowed from Schmidt too because she hear them arguing about it before they left. She thinks it smells better on Nick. That could be a bias born out of the fact that Nick's skin is currently a very big deal to her.

He presses her against the wall, one thigh sliding between hers. His hand slips under her shirt and his fingers spread over the stomach, his mouth is working it's way down her neck. She laughs. It's because she's ticklish okay! Her mouth closes over his ear as she gasps-laughs. Glaughs. Glasps? His hips jerk against hers. She cants her hips up against his and the metal buckle of his belt clicks against hers.

She laughs again. She likes this. How warm she feels and how warm he feels against her. How nice he kisses because man, this kiss is like a really good kiss. She's still buzzy on too much wine and Nick was rocking the scotch on the rocks tonight and it's just enough buzz to make this all seems like a really good idea.

His lips trail down the strap of her tank top. This time her gasp has no trace of laugh and her legs shift. She curls her knees around his thigh and pushes up. She legs tighten around his thigh.

Nick groans low in her ear and his hand curves over her breast. His thumb teases her nipple. Here comes out another glaugh.

 

 

(Here is where the change comes. Everything gets serious here.

For other people, because she laughing again. Wine is a giddy drink.)

 

 

He doesn't seem mind it as his mouth closes over her clothed breast.

"Oh!" she exclaims, clenches, and pulls him closer. It settles his very very prominent erection just right against her, his tongue does this thing and his hand squeezes and suddenly it's like...

Boy howdy!

" _Oh_!"

Oh- _kay_.

The last syllable drags out for three full beats in her minds and Jess can't... she just can't. Even think. That's what she can't. She can't even think.

Her hands curls in his hair and she pushes her hips up up up and up because oh my good lord man this might be the first time this has happened. The nipple orgasm thing and seriously before this very second she thought the whole thing was a Cosmo myth. Man she might own them some sort of apology letter.

Nick then shifts his hips slightly, he uses his mouth and teeth to drag her bra away before he closes his lips over the new freed skin, and man oh man dude _knows_ what he's doing.

 

 

(So it's getting a little serious. But totally not a love story.)

 

 

"Jess, Nick!" They hear Schmidt call at them and like that there's no longer warm lips on her skin or wide palms against her ribs.

Nick practically jumps back and untucks his shirt hanging it over the front of his jeans, and Jess barely gets her thoughts and boobs in order by the time Schmidt rounds the corner into the hallway. Oh man, they were in. The. Hallway. The public hallway where the public meets. The public which includes her two other roommates — the ones she's not currently not making out with in the hallways — and other people that could have seen Nick with his mouth on her _boob_. Oh toledo, that happened. His mouth on her boob.

Which yes, double checking, are tucked back into her bra and not hanging out of her top.

"Guys, there you are!" Schmidt says drunkenly, patting Nick on the back and grinning too widely at Jess. "You totally missed awesomeness at the bar." He fumbles with his key, doesn't even question why they're not inside yet. He misses the key slot twice. Goes for the third miss and she's very carefully not looking at Nick.

"Schmidt." Nick says, sounding too sober for Jess' sanity to be comfortable with and takes the key from Schmidt.

The door opens easily under the twist of his hand.

Jess follows too closely the turn of his wrist. Man, they are good hands--wrists. Hand-wrist. They are good, the hand and the wrist; together and apart. Nicely shaped and had been just under her shirt. That is going to take some getting used too.

"Let me tell you what happened." Schmidt starts talking as he walks into the apartment and heads straight for the couch. He drops like a stone, still talking. He's not going to stop talking any time soon. He's in storytelling mode, he'll be there a while. Jess is only listening to half of what he's saying. Her mind is spinning with: Nick, hands, wrists, hand-wrist, lips, Nick's lips, her lips—together.

She moves to the kitchen and bumps into him.

Nick's hand touches her hips for a second and she feels herself clench. Spencer had great-magical-Disney prince hair but with Nick it's all hands. Man hands. Man hands she want on her lady--

Stop right there, thank you very much, she thinks and moves back from his hands.

"Jess?"

She swallows.

He's looking at her and she can't tell what he's thinking. His lips look like they're frowning too often and that's how they seem now. In the background she can hear Schmidt say something about someone with something that was _sick_. The good awesome sick and, man, she used to be a good listener. She was a world champion listener but now all she can her is hum of her blood at her temples and by her lady business and how it wants to be near Nick's man business and…

"Uh, thirsty. I need water. Lots and lots of water." She says, fumbling back and turning to the kitchen.

Nick nods, he shifts awkwardly. "Yeah, sounds good."

"Yeah, need some ice too. Cold, delicious ice."

Nick doesn't look away from her. "Yeah, ice."

She reaches into the freezer for the water bottles Winston puts in there and hopes he won't mind. This is an emergency. "And then I'm heading to my room. Where I'm planning to sleep." The bottle is too cold in her hands. It's perfect except it's not helping. At all.

"Alone..."

She says but it sounds too much like a question.

Nick's eyes flash at that but then…

 

 

(He should nod and cross the room and press his fingers at her throat and say something sexy. He should follow into her room and part her legs and press his very good hands and lips against her.)

 

 

"Yeah, that's good. Sleep."

Jess isn't drunk enough to throw up but suddenly she wants too. That's stupid though, she was the one that said alone and talked about ice and Schmidt is right there babbling to late night television and them about something she's really not catching.

"Sleep is good. Doctor recommended!"

Nick laughs and she turns to her room. Calls a good night to Schmidt. When inside she locks the door and falls to her bed.

The bottle rolls to the floor but she doesn't care. Her fingers fumbles with her skirt until her fingers reach the edge of her underwear -- pink and purple stars, one of her favourites. She would not have been ashamed to have Nick -- yes, Nick, and she imagines Nick's very nice hands instead of her own.

She's quiet and quick and it doesn't take much tonight. She was already more than half way there.

When she flips to her stomach and leans over her bed to grab the water bottle, her skirt is by her hips, and the water bottle has melted enough that she can take a deep drink.

In the morning the sheets are damp where the water bottle condensation got soaked up by the sheets.

She thinks about condensation and how it happens should be on her next lesson plan. Breakfast end up being fast food that Winston picks up from his walk of shame and Nick gives her half of his breakfast burrito because she splits her egg sandwich with Schmidt. She's kinda glad that there's no awkwardness but then she kinda avoids eye-contact for the next three days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She should be drunker than this, is her first thought as Nick's hands spread under her dress. Her second is: they shouldn't be doing this in Cece's bathroom while their friends are all upstairs at the roof party. They kinda crashed it and by "they" she means Schmidt, Winston and Nick, because she's always invited even though she's hardly ever goes. It's usually all models and photogos (it's a word! Cece's told her!) and "fashion" people and Jess tends to end up eating all the fries because fashion people are very particular about carbs. But she made the mistake of mentioning to Schmidt this morning while he was helping her paint her nails because she's left handed meaning her right hand always looks nice but her left's a mess and it helps when you have someone do the other hand. He was talking about boring tonight was looking and she said something about Cece's and then Schmidt was jumping from the couch calling the rest of the guys over and talking about game faces.

Then they got here and one of Cece's photographer friends was mixing margs and they were super tasty and salty and oh oh oh those are Nick's lips licking at her inside of her thigh. Tangent over.

Jess lets her head fall back against the mirror and her hand shoots out to grab at something—anything. She miscalculates the distance and the crack of her head against the mirror is dulled by the fact she knocks over her drink and it starts spilling over the counter she's leaning on. The ice chips drip heavily on the floor.

 

 

(This wouldn't have happened in any movie. Well, not any movie Jess watches regularly.)

 

 

"Ow," she mumbles, her fingers catching the edge marble for support. It's cool under her palm.

Nick looks up from his chin's stubble is probably giving her thigh razor burn. She's never had razor burn on her thighs before. Spencer had always been smoothly shaved. She thinks she prefers the pinpricks of heat from Nick's stubble already.

"You okay?" he asks. His _o_ 's extend for too long. It sounds like _yoh-u oh-kay_. He's is much drunker than she is.

It's cute, she thinks. It kinda also even things out because last time this happened she was way more blitzed than him.

Hmmm, maybe she is drunker than she thinks.

"Yeah, super duper; you can continue what you were doing." Jess nods, moves her other hand to his neck. Guides him back.

Nick has a nice smile, she thinks as he flashes it up to her — and right then she thinks _dangerous_ , not so nice anymore, but like slick and sexy and just this side of dirty that really turns her on — just before he ducks back down and—

"Ah!"

His teeth presses over her clit through her underwear. She can feel the shape of his mouth through the material as his fingers slip through the elastic. Jess can't think coherently for once. All her thoughts are centred on his lips and fingers and teeth and the way her skin feels raw as he pushes her underwear down her legs and his stubble scratches her. It's…

He licks into her and _oh holy moley_!

Her body bucks back she hears him curse distantly as her pelvis moves to fast and she catches his nose. He pushes back from her a little, hands tightening on her hips. Her breath sounds way too close to a pant to her ears and has she ever panted before? Is panting a thing she does now? His hands grip at her where he's on his knees on the bathmat and his eyes are blown wide with lust. How is it that she feels like the one out of control?

"Jess," he says and his voice is too thick in her ears. She can feel his breath on her thighs. It cools the wetness there.

It hits her why her skin is wet there, why his lips look like he has shiny lipgloss on and she almost comes right there and then.

 

 

(There are games of I Never she always won at because she's only really dated Spencer seriously and like they never did anything like this. She thought this stuff was things people made up to sound sexy.

Her next game of I Never is going to be a game changer.)

 

 

"Sorry _sorry_. You okay?" she asks. Pants, probably.

"Yeah, just be careful," it's funny that he's telling her to be careful when he's the reason she doesn't feel careful at all. He's holding her hips steady. She bites her lips down because man now she can really see his hands and they're holding her hips and they look so _solid_ and there's a red bite mark that she knows come from his lips.

"N-now?" She can't say his name. She's not drunk enough and god, it's Nick and she just wants him.

Huh, she wants Nick. Like really wants him. This shouldn't be a surprise but it is. She wants Nick and his man-bartender hands and his sexy smirky serious lips and those shoulders.

The thought gets pushed back as he shifts up and goes to kiss her. To which, um, no. She lifts her hand, holding it to his chest, and shakes her head. It's not that she doesn't want to kiss him but his lips were just against her lady business and as sexy as it seems—she reaches over and grabs her damp napkin from her drink—no thanks. Nick laughs lightly and then just licks his lips. Oh man, that's just _hot_. Hotter still because he doesn't look aways from her and when he presses the napkin to his lips there's no point but she appreciates the gesture.

Now he moves to kiss her Jess lets him and sighs a little.

He really is such a good kisser. Sucking on her bottom lips, he's like pulling out all the sexy kissing stops.

Her hands curl around his neck and her fingers dig into his hair. Twists, when she feels his thumb press against her clit. And then he slips two fingers in easily and does something she _has_ to get him to teach her because she's suddenly arching into him. Her nails bite down on his neck and her short little shout is muffled by his lips.

Jess' thighs shake and she tightens them on Nick's hips because hot damn what was that?

Good, that was good, Jess, she hears Cece's voice in her ear.

 

 

(It's possible that things have gotten more serious than anticipated.)

 

 

She comes around his hand, clamping down on him, and he's kissing her, whispering dirty things to her as she rides the waves out. His free hand is at her neck, tilting it back, carefully against the mirror, his fingers messing up her pony tail. Jess slowly starts to regain her bearings and when she opens her eyes, she comes face to face to with an aroused and horny Nick. He's kinda grinding carefully against her thigh and the hand that had just brought her off is shoved down his half open fly. Jess moans a little at the sight and her muscles clench against. Nick looks up at her and she grins. Shifting forward on the counter top, she reaches out to him and shoves his arm away a little. Opening his zipper the rest of the way, she hooks her leg over his hip and curls her hand around his dick. His hand is there, jerking and twisting, and it doesn't take long for her to pick up his rhythm. When his breath starts to come — haha, pun! — a little choppy she curls herself around him, moving her hand a little faster, pressing her thigh against his and sucks his earlobe between her teeth.

He doesn't say her name, instead he just mutters _fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_ until he's done.

 

 

(So.

Yeah.

Maybe this is going a bit more Sex and the City than anyone thought.)

 

 

Jess leaves Cece's guess bathroom first and composes herself in Cece's en suite. When she goes back up to the roof Nick is already talking baseball or something with some male model that she's pretty sure is trying to get into Nick's pants. Been there, done that, male model dude! She gives herself a high five and decides that kinda drunkish bathroom Everything But sex sobered her up enjoy for one more margarita.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note:

It did start with just kissing, but they got to the under the clothes action pretty fast. And to the Everything But part even faster after that. It wasn't like a _plan_ but after Nick's lips got cozy with her boobs well.

Things kinda avalanched from there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note, the second:

They might have — okay, definitely — started kissing in the non-drunk capacity too before Cece's bathroom but not after the Hallway. But it's not serious. It's what Schmidt would call a Frak Buddy, except he used a different word and that haven't necessarily fuc—frakked yet. But it like happens when they're not drunk and it's just stupid stuff, but like sometimes they are at the apartment and the guys are busy and she's making cupcakes and babbling about what kind of frosting she should used and should she start making vegan ones because being healthy is important — she just had the kids do a project on health — and then he's there looking at her and well... kissing happens there too.

Um.

Other things happened then as well.

He maybe kinda — for sure — smears frosting on her dress and apron when he tilts her into the stool and his fingers are pushing her underwear way and her hands are dirty and sticky — WITH THE SUGAR AND FLOUR! — and they leave marks on his shirt and she has to start a whole new batch for her class by the end of it and when Winston and Schmidt get home they only find her cleaning up a mess and ask why she has frosting on her knees. And Nick is in the shower and they ignore each other for two days.

 

 

(So.

Like.

She doesn't know what this means.

At all.

This is why it's better when they're drunk… and that's normal, isn't it?)

 

 

 

 

 

Cece's party is what changes things, she thinks. Well, she's sure, actually, because after her one more margarita she catches his eye as he's talking to the model or model-slash-actor, she forgets, and it's like wham! bam! thank you, ma'am! Finally knows that if they hadn't been in Cece's bathroom she would have scored a touchdown. Which she really wants to score.

Right now.

She's never been the type the of friend to ditch another friend at a party but Nick is titling his head to the roof top access and her head is nodding and her feet are taking her over to Cece. She mumbles an excuse she doesn't even really understand — _the margs have won and I've claim defeat and just Nick's gonna take me—drive me! Home! Tell Schmidt and Winston sorry about the ride unless they find their own but yeah. Call me later, alligator!_ — and Cece's only lifts her eyebrow very slowly in the way that means she's knows something is up but can't be bothered to figure Jess out right now.

And that's how she finds herself twenty minutes later — traffic is the worstttttt — straddling Nick on their couch.

 

 

(Movies always skips the awkward car rides and elevator rides and trips down the stairs when cutting from the couple at the party to the couple on the couch making out. She finally understands why.

These moments are awkward. Awkwarder when the other person in the couple is your friend-slash-roommate-slash-person you've been doing sexy things with. But they make it down the stairs okay and there's a mom and kid with a dog in the elevator that starts sniffing at Nick's crotch, which makes her laughs, and when they finally spill into her car, she finds herself pressed against her seat for one very sloppy kiss because she's in the middle of putting her seatbelt on and Nick's worried about other things. Like how her dress barely rides up in her seat, but his hands push it way way way higher.

It's fun for the first ten minutes because the radio station is kinda giving them a kick ass soundtrack and at the stop lights he rids her of her cardigan and cute little vest with the flowers but then by minute fifteen the radio is playing some Ke$ha and unless he takes of his shirt, which she would not be adverse too, he can't really you know do anything that wouldn't get them pulled over.

By minute eight-teen she's _this_ close to telling him to move his hand higher for god sakes, where it rests on the skin just above her knee and his thumb is rubbing idle circles that shoot little sparks of lust through her nerve endings.

Minute nineteen he's pulling her up their own stairs and here we are.

Twenty minutes later:)

 

 

"Jess," he groans, tilting his head back as she ducks her head and bites his Adam's apple. His hands are busy and everywhere, pushing the straps of her dress off her shoulders, her skirt up her hips, squeezing and holding and god his mouth is so good. She licks her way into his mouth and moves her hands over the stupid stupid buttons off his shirt until his hands push hers away.

"Buttons are stupid," she breathes, frowning at him. The shirt looks really good and the way he has his cuffs rolled up, well.

Jess has learned that she's an arm kinda girl. For Nick's arms.

He grins up at her and then surprises her, leaning up and closing his teeth over her chin.

"I'll get the buttons, you get the dress."

Jess blinks, smiles, and then hops up from the couch. She has to reach behind and bend back a little to pull at her zipper. The sound of it being pulled down is the only other sound beside their breathing and the hum of the city outside. The dress loosens from her body and she shoves the straps down and off her arms before pulling it over her head. Her hairdo has already been murdered under his hands. When she focuses back on Nick, he's staring at her, and she remembers two things:

One: she wasn't wearing a bra under the dress. (Built in bras are the best.)

Two: They've never really seen each other naked before.

His throat works and the hands pulling at his belt still. His face stops too. It's so open, she thinks. Like everything about it. His eyes, his mouth, even his nostrils have flared wider than usual.

"Jess." Her name sounds different suddenly. Like he wants her. Really really wants her, not just you know, the husky sex voice he gets, but like well, she's never heard her name sound like that before.

She flushes.

"Yes?"

He looks at her, at her face, and then his hands are her hips and he's smiling again. "Come here." His teeth close over the elastic of her underwear and she giggles. Ticklish, okay! Her hands curl into his hair and then he's kissing her and touching her and lowering her back into his lap. Jess' hands slide down his neck and meet his shoulder. They are warm and bare under her hand and it hits her in the gut again. They've never been so naked in front of each other before — the bathroom doesn't count because they can't see each other and sometimes _sometimes_ she still wears her bathing suit bottoms when she showers since the bathroom has no lock and well, she lives with three guys who are _guys_ — and his chest is right there pressing against her.

She needs a moment.

Pushing away from where his lips are sucking a bruise at her neck, she say, "Wait, I need a moment."

Nick pushes her hair back over her shoulder, and licks his lips. "A moment?"

Jess shrugs. She takes in his face, his neck, his shoulders, his chest and his half undone pants and nods. "Yeah, just. Give me a sec." Her hands fall to where she can see his boxers peak out of his pants and flatten her hands against his hips. He makes a little sound and her eyes fly up to his. They are dark and just this side of dangerous. Her fingers curl and he reaches forward to cup her face. A thought pops in her head just before cover her mouth again.

"Got a condom? Because like, safety first and it's not like I've had much action since Spencer and I'm on the pill but we still should just you know… be safe." She trails off, waving her one hand in the air and then she finds her lips crushed under Nick's again.

He kisses like he's going to fra—fuck her, she might as well say it now. And she wants him too. So very bad.

Pulling away, he lifts his hips and she feels the impression of his dick press against her as his hand go for his wallet and the condom he's keeps there. She rises on her knees pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs and shoves her own underwear out of the way as he slips the condom on.

Fingers curl over her hips and she looks down at him. He's smirking up at her and she know she's grinning.

They move close enough to the same moment that she's got the right hold on his biceps and his hands cups her ass. It's been a while and he's feels so much fuller insider than Spencer ever did. She has to take another moment.

"Nick," she says, low in his ear and feels his nod against her neck. Jess isn't sure why he's nodding but he's giving her moment regardless.

Then he rolls his hips and her breath whooshes out. Her nails bite into his arms, Nick's lips close over the pulse point in her neck. And then he's shifting and rolling his hips again and hers are following and the rhythm is probably too fast and too messy and there no actual rhythm at all but she doesn't think that either can stop now. His hand are curving into her ass, hips, waist and her knees are digging into the soft leather of the couch with every move their bodies make. Needing more leverage she wraps her arms fully around his neck and one hand curls over the back of the couch. It pushes her up, her collarbone at level with his nose and she can feel it bump against the bone there with each thrust. She bares down on him harder with each time and then he leans back against the couch, tilting his hips, and _oh holy moley_!!!

Her hand slick with sweat slips off the back of the couch and fists into the leather by his head. Her body bows back and Nick's lips close over her breast. He tongues at her nipple. Jess makes the mistake of opening her eyes and looking down to see him. He's looking straight up at her and that's when she feels her muscles clench, so close so close so close.

She mouths his name and feels his hands curve under her jaws, lips brushing the skin there, muttering things at her, and his next thrust sends her over.

 

 

(In an art house film you'd see the image of woman's lips making a circle and then a bunch of images of fireworks and metaphoric imagery.)

 

 

Jess just shouts. Nick's hand hold her steady as her body pretty much goes all Jell-O like and he's kissing her. Neck, cheeks, mouth. Oh man, he really is such a good kisser and she keeps her arms around him as he sucks at her tongue and his hips cant sloppily up into her still. He's still saying dirty-sexy things and she would giggle over this but she's too busy using her remaining energy to squeeze her thighs together and remember those stupid Kegal exercises Cece told about once. Then she's closing her teeth over his bottom lips, calls him _nicholas_ , and next thing she knows he's groaning into her mouth. His hands are digging into her ass and hips and every muscle under her goes tight with tension before he uncoils and she can feel the last jerk of his hips against hers.

 

 

(So boy has met girl and girl has met boy and they've had an odd but oh so hilariously awkward courtship and here's where the story ends.

Right?

Wrong.

Back the party both Schmidt and Winston struck out with the models and decide to head home. Schmidt's thinking: ice cream and any movie with full front on the girl not the dude! Or maybe some Mcconaughey too. Winston's thinking: EPSN and beer and jamming to some Toni Braxton.)

 

 

Nick's hand is on her ass, kinda rubbing it, kinda just resting there and she's catching her breath against his chest when they hear the door lock. They look at each for a very worried millisecond before they move. Jess hasn't been in any sort of sport club or marathon but the speed she fixes her underwear, pulls her dress half on and bolts to her room is gold medal worthy. She thinks Nick is right behind her.

Except when she slams the door behind her she realises she's alone.

In the next two-seconds she hears:

Another door slamming shut -- of course he went to his room! -- and Schmidt's voice calling for some post strike out commiserating.

Jess pretends to be sleeping and doesn't come out of her room. The girl reflected back at her in the mirror looks nothing like her with half her boob is popping out and her underwear uncomfortable twisted on her legs. She drops down to her bed and looks up at the stars she stuck on the ceiling after she first moved in.

 

 

(Now what happens?)

 

 

At breakfast in the morning Winston tells her Nick left early -- _he said he was going out running, which is bullshit, that boy hasn't run since he was high school or Caroline called him_ and it makes her stomach feel like lead -- as Schmidt burns his egg white omelet and joins them for a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and the episodes of _The Jersey Shore_ he DVRs.

Nick comes back and he's sweaty, and says he's going to shower. He doesn't look at Jess.

It takes her three minutes before she says something about brushing her teeth and plaque and something else. She goes to the bathroom. They need to talk. Or something.

Guess what happens.

Her pajamas get wet when he pulls her in the shower and Jess learns Nick has very good balance, much better than hers, and okay okay... good something.

It's just after he comes and her cheek is pressed up against the tile that Schmidt comes in. Nick practically plasters himself against her like it would make her invisible and Schmidt's asking about where she is and how if he should start calling himself The Schmidt. Nick yells at him to get out and Jess is only thinking two things:

One, they need a lock for the bathroom.

Two, her clothes are all wet and in a pile at their feet.

And oh wait, one more thing:

Three, Schmidt cannot pull the article in front of his name.

The sound of the door closing has her looking back at Nick and she's just realising that they just had secret sex in their unlockable bathroom where their roommates can walk in whenever and all her clothes are wet.

 

 

(No, really, now what?)  


**Author's Note:**

> WHAT IS SHAME? WHAT IS DIGNITY? This is all [](http://falseeeyelashes.livejournal.com/profile)[**falseeeyelashes**](http://falseeeyelashes.livejournal.com/) 's fault because she started talking about her fic, which is [totally awesome](http://falseeeyelashes.livejournal.com/324581.html) btw!!, and i told her DUDE IF YOU WRITE IT I WILL WRITE DRUNK YOU "THE FIVE TIMES THEY HAVE DRUNK HOOKUPS and kinda awkward sex" and so here i am. because let's face it they were one drink way from photobooth wedding sex [here](http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u267/isabelqc/photoboothnewgirl.gif).


End file.
